


Our Funeral

by GreyscaleHyena



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Consumation, F/M, Implied Intercourse, Kissing, Teasing, Wedding, Wrestling, mxf, soft-core smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyscaleHyena/pseuds/GreyscaleHyena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tradition wedding garb would be the death of Khutulun and Byamba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Funeral

“If I am not out of this thing in the next few moments, I cannot promise its safe return to the Empress.”

“You would do best not to harm a single thread on it; your promise has already been made and the queen knows exactly where you sleep. Also,” Byamba bit his bottom lip to try and stifle the onslaught of choppy laughter that broke up his words, his shoulders shaking with the strain of holding it back, “The sight of you in a dr—dress is … Magnificent? Breathtaking?” He supplied the words through giggles, easily stepping away from her swatting hands as she reached for him.

“If by breathtaking you mean that it is stealing the very breath from my lungs, your description is apt idiot. This damn thing would look better on my _horse_.” Khutulun grit the words through clenched teeth, fingers fumbling to find the myriad of hidden clasps, closures, and ties that kept her tightly wrapped in her ceremonial wedding garb. She made miniature steps, spinning in heedless circles as she sought after the first of many heavy clasps that kept her ornately woven fur over-coat in place.

It was a lovely thing; spotlessly white fur down the opening, interwoven with swirling brown patterns in a darker fur highlighted the golden embroidery and raw chocolate colored silk that emblazoned the back. Lovely, but completely useless—how was she to fight in a time of need? Swing a sword? Ride a horse?!

“ _Idiot_ , am I? Well I was going to help you out of your prison, but I am not sure an _idiot_ could manage it. Perhaps we call Lady Chabi back and have her help – after all, you did tell her you could handle such a _simple_ task, I am sure she would see no bother in assisting you in your time of need,” Byamba chuckled outright this time, waving off the daggers she glared at him, working off his own heavy cloak and cap, setting them neatly into their places upon a huge chest.

Sighing loudly, Khutulun blew a strand of coral and bone beads out of her face and shuffled towards the warrior bastard of the Khan, pout in full affect as she aimed a stunted kick at his shin, “All right, all right; maybe… maybe an idiot would suffice. Now come on, your lady wife needs you.” Flailing her arms expectantly, she flashed him a smile, turning slowly to expose the first rows of ties along her side.

“ _Lady_ wife? I would believe your horse a lady before you.” Mirroring the smile, he pulled the pins securing the ornamental headdress in place, lifting it reverently to place beside his own upon the chest. “When was the last time I saw you in a dress? You were just out of childhood, maybe your tenth summer, and you stood before me ripping at the long skirts. Your attendants were in fits, thinking you were sick with madness for destroying such beautiful silks, but you only stuck your tongue out at them and complained that you ‘ _could not run like a filly if your legs were kept in a sack_ ’.” Byamba chuckled at Khutulun’s indignant snort, her hands settling upon her hips as she laughed in return, “I remember later mocking your horsey teeth, thinking you would appreciate the compliment since you wanted to be a horse so bad.”

“And _I_ remember rubbing manure into your first braids until you ran to the Empress to rat on me. Did you know she was so proud of me that she taught me how to make the same braids for myself?” Khutulun snickered and shrugged her shoulders to allow the heavy coat to slip away into Byamba’s arms, groaning happily at the weight of it being freed from her. Freely able to move her own arms now, the warrior worked on fiddling her fingers into the second set of ties that gathered beneath a red belt garnered with heavy opals that were polished to a gleaming shine. The material fell to the floor with a thump, her thoughts already turned to getting at the next set of ties that kept her confined.

Rolling his eyes, Byamba stooped to retrieve the belt, looping it over the chest before pulling his chest sash over one shoulder, “Aye, aye, I remember it well. My father laughed at me for _weeks_ for that one –I can only be glad Jingim was not born yet or they would _still_ be laughing about it, you she-devil.” Left only in his own white deel, Byamba settled himself against one of the stone pillars that arched towards the ceiling of the palace, watching his wife struggling to get her second layer off.

Growling, Khutulun kicked one of her soft slippers at him, snickering as it nailed him in the upper thigh, “Should I be worried about your obvious lack of interest in getting a woman undressed? Not only a bastard, but a eunuch as well, eh?” She prodded at his cool demeanor with heated words, sending her second slipper sailing to the far side of the room in the opposite direction because she knew it would annoy him.

Having caught the first slipper that he’d been attacked with, Byamba tossed it towards the chest before trekking to retrieve the second one, “You say bastard like it is a bad thing! I mean, you were bested by a bastard after all, _tsk tsk tsk_.” He clicked his tongue at her, wagging a finger as he passed, not able to resist the temptation of giving her a push to set her off balance as she fumbled with the high garters of her wool stockings. He laughed at her sound of distress as she stumbled forward, catching her eye with a wink as he bent to grab her second shoe and tossing it to join its twin.

Hopping to remove her thick woolen stockings, Khutulun swiped a hasty hand through her hair to get it out of her face as she eyed him, teeth flashing as she cooed at him, “We both know that you did not beat me. You couldn’t best me if you wanted to, _Byamba_.” She sang his voice sweetly, taunting him while pulling at her second stocking.

“Yet here we are; you the willing bride, beaten by a bastard in a test of skill, doomed to forever be my wife! I beat you once, I can beat you again.” Of course, he knew better than to assume the best wrestler of their clan had actually been beaten by someone of his skill, but poking the bear was entirely too much fun. “But of course a _lady_ would never think of—“

Her arm fixed loosely around his neck, cutting him off as she leapt onto his back. Unfortunately, her usually sturdy grip given by her knees was lost in the soft slip of her silk deel, her legs scrambling for purchase while trying to throw her weight to the side and throw him off balance.

Grunting, Byamba widened his stance, laughing hoarsely around her grip as he felt her struggle against him, “That all, little wife? No wonder I beat you!” He hunkered his weight lower, grabbing blindly behind him in an attempt to snare her. Byamba’s hand threaded through her thick hair as she whipped her head away, her own grunt of frustration as she was forced to retreat. 

Egged on further by her new partner’s mockery, Khutulun’s feet found the plush carpets quickly and checked her shoulder hard into Byamba’s hip, finally upsetting his balance as he stumbled. Smug, she plucked off her beaded necklaces and flung them towards the chest, trying hard to get the corded ties undone at her waist, “My poor husband – stumbling like a drunk without even a bit of drink. Maybe I should just finish this quickly so we can sober up your good sense.” Her smile was catty as the warrior turned to rush her, stance dropping with arms outstretched to catch him.

The pair met with a thud, heads close as they struggled to pull one another down. Cheek to cheek, Byamba grinned ferally, twisting like a snake to plan a roguish peck on her mouth. Khutulun pulled back, fumbling with her grip at the unexpected contact – just the opening Byamba needed to drop and hook her behind the knees, tossing her over his shoulder.

“You rotten cheat!” Khutulun barked at him, legs thrashing as she took it out on his hair, reaching up to take fist-fulls of the dark strands like reigns to pull him to the ground.

“Aiieeh! Who’s the che--- _OW!_ —Cheat now?!” Byamba dropped to his knees and quickly deposited his prize beneath him, wincing at his hair still caught in her grip. Khutulun only snickered at him, bringing her knees up in a quick motion to take him in the gut –

_RRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIPPP_

The pair froze, eyes wide in shock, refusing to follow the noise to its source. They didn’t move for what felt like an eternity before both looked in tandem between them; along the right side of the cream colored silk ran a jagged tear, the pulled fabric unraveling in messy bunches and pulls where it rode up her front.

Dark eyes met once more, mirrored looks of barely suppressed horror flashing between them. 

Byamba cracked first, mouth splitting into a grin as unfettered waves of laughter spilled from him, a hand dropping to his stomach as he rolled away from her, “She- she is going to kill you! Ahahahah!” He wiped tears from his eyes, hair fanned out around him like an ink spill.

Khutulun screwed up her face, punching him hard on the bicep before picking at the ruined hem, “ _Me?_ This is entirely your fault!” Byamba continued to laugh, her annoyance growing until she reached over and caught his sleeve and pulled hard, ripping the decorative border off the fringe. 

Holding up her prize, Khutulun reveled in his dumbstruck face and gave it a little shake, “Guess we should plan your funeral as well, eh?”

Checking his sleeve in disbelief, Byamba sat up once more and looked at her as if she’d grown a second head, “You—how cou—I--..” 

Flabbergasted, he watched as she fell back laughing at him, flicking the ruined piece of fabric at his face she went. Enflamed, the Khan’s son took a hold of her ripped dress again and pulled hard, lengthening the rip up to her hip with a look of childish innocence, “Our funeral , so it seems.”

He was ready for her attack this time, his arms wrapping around her waist as she pinned him, their laughter melting into fond smiles. Byamba’s large hands smoothed up the backs of Khutulun’s thighs, fingers lisping beneath the ruined silk dress to grope at the muscular form hidden beneath, exploring the supple skin he found there. Her skillful fingers had no trouble slipping between them to untie the single belt that kept Byamba clothed, her teeth flashing as she delved deeper to grasp at her torrid prize. Sighing happily, Byamba worked his free hand into her hair, smoothing the flat of his palm across her cheek while watching her,

“A happy death it will be then.” 

Khutulun nuzzled her face into his palm, feeling the tender pull behind his words; she was used to being the object of desire, the prize that men fought for, but this man beneath her… this man looked at her as equal, something to cherish rather than covet. Her determined grin fell into a soft smile, eyes closed as she spoke, “Aye, a pair of happy idiots buried together.” 

Their lips met in a simple kiss, a brief brush of lips, a glancing tease of skin. Byamba pressed their foreheads together in an affectionate rub, noses bumping while he worked Khutulun’s remaining layers off her shoulders to expose her lithe back. Let loose, her small breasts slipped free from the now draping fabric in two sweet swells that stole Byamba’s attention for only a moment before their lips met again in second kiss. This one lingered, each tasting the other as exploring hands grew more daring, pressing and stroking heated skin that didn’t belong to them.

Quiet but for their fevered breathing, Khutulun wasted little time in waiting, her fingers slipping between them to align the thrust that would sanctify their marriage. She watched Byamba’s hands as they slipped up her thighs, following the corded muscles up to his face before taking him within herself, eyes fluttering closed at the intimate stretch that followed.

Twin moans echoed to the shadows that lived in the ceilings of the palace, bodies still as they struggled to think around the bleeding pleasure between them. It was Khutulun who moved first, hips rolling forward, dragging him across the hidden bits that set her eyelashes fluttering. Her hands worked into her hair, mussing it as she snapped her hips back, earning a new fevered sound from Byamba.

Together they rode their first coupling to its fullest; first one astride then the other, desperate calls and ground teeth as they took full advantage of their new arrangement. Dusk crawled tirelessly towards the evening, evening to night before the pair fell into against one another with ragged breaths and dark hair plastered to their damp skin. Panting, Byamba could barely lift the tattered remains of Khutulun’s dress to cover them from prying eyes before they fell away into dreams, uncaring of the sweat, shredded silk, broken necklace beads, and bodily mess that surrounded them.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The tattered remains of the once beautiful dress were held before the Empress in her private quarters, her servants staring at the cloth held between them with wide eyes, undoubtedly thinking on what kind of monster the Khan’s bastard son could be.

Chuckling, the Empress nodded, signaling for it to be placed back within the box the newlywed couple had sent her only an hour ago. Turning, she made slow steps to her dais, remembers her own dress as she leaned over the red lacquered railing to toss a handful of crumbs to the swans and fish who circled below, _‘At least they had something to return by the end – more than I could say for Kublai.’_

Visions of a young girl, gap-toothed and wild made her smile, _‘Once a filly, always a filly, so it seems.’_

Chabi’s soft chuffing sent the swans searching towards the far side of the pond, their coal black feel paddling behind them as they sought shelter among the reeds.

**Author's Note:**

> Outfits inspired by this! (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/ff/1d/df/ff1ddf8815d3f2a91c6d361c09bcacc1.jpg). Thank you so much for the fic request from a wonderfully nonny on my tumblr and calicy-imagination for her encouragement! I hope ya'll enjoyed it; be sure to leave a kudo/comment!
> 
>  
> 
> My tumblr is http://tolkientrek.tumblr.com/ ! Follow me for more fic updates, silly random shit, etc.
> 
> I do take fic requests/prompts, but only for pairings I personally ship (SORRY!)


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